


Castles in the Air

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Primeval
Genre: Dreamlike, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Injured Stephen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7313671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen finds himself in therapy on an idyllic island. But all is not as it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castles in the Air

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lukadreaming](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lukadreaming).



> Written as a Christmas present for the very lovely lukadreaming.
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal in 2011.

__

> ”How much longer is this going to take?”
> 
> “You need to be patient, Captain. There's been a lot of internal damage.”
> 
> “But he'll be all right? It can all be fixed?”
> 
> “Time will tell.”

* * * * *

The waves crashed against the beach and Stephen wondered what it would feel like, the sand between his toes, the water on his skin. But that was forbidden.

“You can go anywhere on this island, but not that beach. Not that sea.”

Stephen had grown used to following the doctor's orders so he never questioned. He just watched. And waited.

* * * * *

“And what is it exactly you think you're waiting for?” Dr Lewis asked. She crossed her legs, showing off her tan and her dangerous looking red heels. Stephen thought she was very pretty, but knew without having to be told, that she was off limits.

“I don't know,” Stephen said. “I'm just waiting.”

He supposed he should find it frustrating, waiting without purpose, or at least not knowing what that purpose was. Because there _was_ a purpose, he just didn’t know it.

“And how does it make you feel? Waiting?”

“Happy,” Stephen said, without hesitation.

“You're happy?” Dr Lewis made a mark on her clipboard. (He'd looked once, when she'd gone to fetch him a glass of water, and found that the clipboard was just full of numbers – 1's and 0's – that made no sense to him).

“Yes,” Stephen said.

“And why is that? Why does waiting make you happy?”

“Because he's coming for me.”

Dr Lewis leaned forward. “He is? Who is?”

But Stephen couldn't remember. He never could.

* * * * *

Stephen had been in the hospital a long time. There'd been an accident and he'd needed a lot of work, but the doctors were all happy with his progress. All except Dr Lewis who kept pushing him to remember things that he just couldn't. He just _knew_ things. That was all.

He had therapy four times a week with Dr Lewis and once with a Dr Cutter. He preferred Dr Lewis.

For one thing her office was much brighter than Dr Cutter's. The walls were a light blue, there were comfy chairs with cushions artfully distributed around them. And there was a large window she always had open which let in a lovely sea breeze. Sometimes Stephen would just sit in his chair and stare out at the sea, without having to say a word.

But Dr Cutter's was a different room altogether. It was dark and shadowy with only one uncomfortable chair to sit in. There were no paintings to look at and the only window was a round circle in the door. Stephen always felt a sharp stabbing pain of dread whenever he had one of Dr Cutter's appointments.

He always felt guilty at those appointments too. But he never knew why.

* * * * *

“And how are we today, Stephen?” Dr Lewis asked.

They were sitting side by side on the balcony of Dr Lewis' room, staring out at the ocean.

“Okay,” Stephen said. “Fine.”

“I want to try something a little different today, if that's all right?”

“Okay,” Stephen replied. He had no feelings one way or the other, but he always seemed to know what answer he was supposed to give.

“I want Dr Cutter to join us. I think this might be beneficial for both of you. What do you say?”

For the first time since he'd come to the hospital, Stephen's desire to say no seemed to overwhelm him.

But Dr Lewis was wearing less make-up than usual, making her look more vulnerable and kind and Dr Cutter's shadowy presence was already standing by the door.

“All right,” Stephen said. “But only for a little while.”

Dr Cutter sat opposite Stephen, but his face was still in shadow and Stephen couldn't make a guess as to what the other man was thinking.

It unnerved him.

“Do you know why you're here, Stephen?” Dr Lewis asked.

“To get better. To be well. To wait.”

“And what is it you're waiting for?” Dr Cutter asked.

“Him,” Stephen replied.

“Does he have a name?” Dr Cutter pressed, leaning forward.

“I don't – I don't know.” Stephen felt his brow furrow. It was there, the name. Stuck just on the tip of his tongue.  
  
“How will you know he's here?” Dr Lewis asked.

“I'll be forgiven.”

There was a short, shocked pause. No one had been expecting him to say that, least of all Stephen himself.

“Forgiven for what, Stephen?”

“ _Helen,”_ Stephen whispered.

“You are, Stephen,” Dr Cutter said. “Oh, Stephen, you are.”

* * * * *

When Stephen next woke up he was in one of the forbidden beach huts, lying on top of the cotton sheets on the bed.

And there was someone lying next to him.

“Tom,” Stephen said, testing the word out on his tongue. “Tom Ryan.”

The man shifted next to him. “Morning, Stephen. How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Stephen replied automatically. And then he stopped. The compunction to say what was required of him was gone. “Actually, I've got a bit of a headache.”

Tom smiled as if that was the best news he'd ever heard.

“That's great,” Tom said. “That means you're almost ready to go home.”

“Home?” Stephen repeated. The word had a nice ring to it. Safe and warm.

“But where are we now?” he asked, after silently contemplating his surroundings.

“You're in a hospital. Mostly.”

Stephen frowned. “I don't understand.”

“No,” Tom said, “you won't. Not yet.” He planted a kiss on Stephen's bare shoulder. “It's good to see you again.”

Stephen was going to reply that it was good to see Tom too, because it _was_ , in so many ways because Tom, Tom was the one he'd been waiting for, Tom was everything...but Tom was fading, turning into droplets of sand and disappearing, just like the bed, and the hut and the beach and the sea...

* * * * *

If Stephen were capable of screaming, he would have, but there was a tube down his throat preventing any kind of sound from escaping. He flailed for a moment, the pain rushing back to him and then he let his eyes open.

He was floating in a tank of water, surrounded by medical equipment. He wasn't in any pain any more, he realised that now, it had just been the sharp shock of remembering that had made him want to scream. Remembering the cage, the anomalies, the rending of flesh.

He was whole now though. Whole and well.

There was movement outside of the tank and Stephen turned his head. Cutter was there, and Jenny and Abby and Connor, and best of all Ryan was there, smiling down at him.

Stephen doubted whether he was real, but put his hand up against the wall of the tank anyway. Outside, Ryan did the same.

* * * * *

“Where are we?” Stephen asked. He was wrapped up in a warm fleece, sitting in a deckchair, staring out at a strange desert landscape.

Ryan was sitting next to him, their fingers intertwined.

“When are we, would be a better question.”

“When are we, then?”

“About three hundred years in the future, give or take a decade, as Connor likes to remind us.”

“But how did I get here? How did _you_ get here?” Stephen reached up and pressed his fingers to Ryan's face, barely able to believe that this was all real. “You were dead.”

“Some future archaeologist found me before I was completely dead, brought me back here and fixed me up as good as new.” Ryan planted a kiss on Stephen's cheek. “They told me what had happened to you and I convinced them to save you. Normally they don't interfere in the time steams, but once they'd done it for me...” Ryan trailed off and shrugged.

“That tank...”

“It sent you into a coma, to protect your mind while you healed. The doctors say it relaxes your mind enough to work out any issues that might be holding your recovery back. Anything left unresolved.” Ryan paused before taking a deep breath. “Did it?”

Stephen smiled. “Yes. It did. I built all my dreams around you.”

Ryan turned his head away, but not before Stephen saw the emotions playing out across his face.

* * * * *

“When can I go home?” Stephen asked Cutter. They were half-playing a game of chess and half staring in relief at each other.

“When the doctors say you can. You need to be patient.”

Stephen huffed a small laugh. “This from the man who thinks heating up soup in a saucepan takes too long.”

“I'm not having you back in the field only to collapse at the first sign of a dinosaur.”

Stephen looked down at his hands. “So I am then?” he asked quietly. “Back on the team?”

“Of course you are. I was – momentarily – an idiot.”

“Momentarily?” Stephen repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Cutter laughed. “Yes, momentarily.”

The two men shared a happy smile and then got back to the game.

* * * * *

It was surprising how much the ARC had changed since Stephen was last there. The layout was different and there were new staff members whose names he needed to remember.

Lester was the same, of course. And the core team was together, which mattered most of all.

Apart from the fact that he and Ryan would never be parted again.


End file.
